Beginners Luck
by TURDFOX
Summary: I brought this over from my alternate account. OC and Cyclops centric. One shot. R&R. ENJOY!


**Beginner's Luck**

_There's a first time for everything. Beginner's luck. if at first you don't succeed I always did hate sayings like that. The meaning behind them was always fake to me. The worst one was always beginners luck. People always told me, "Those skills with the Cyclops, just 'beginner's luck'." They were just like my father; he couldn't accept that I was actually good at something. No, I wasn't good. I was a prodigy with Big Daddy. I finally had something to do with my life. For once I had something to live for, something that gave my life purpose. And what did people tell me? 'I was a lucky kid; you're just getting lucky you don't know what you're doing' and the worst 'beginner's luck'._

_I guess that's my life. I guess it's just the life I lived that made me such a pessimist about such upbeat sayings. Another reason is the war. After being in your first battle you realize that there's nothing upbeat behind those sayings. Nobody should ever have to experience their first battlefield. Beginner's luck is nothing but a fraud, you either have the skill to survive or you die, simple as that. You get a lucky shot with your pistol, and shoot a Grunt dead, a dozen more are going to tear you limb from limb while you fumble to clear a jam. And the last phrase? If at first you don't succeed? That one's the worst of them all in my opinion. In war, you only have one try. Only one chance. If at first you don't succeed, you're dead._

_Sure, you can say that I'm over exaggerating. You can say that I'm just being a whiney little bitch. You can tell me to stop being such a 'Gloomy Gus'. God I hate that term as well. But the truth of the matter is, you have no idea what it's like. Until you have watched everyone you relied on die, and forced to abandon lives to complete your mission. There's nothing that compares to the pain you experience when you watch your friends, your family, die. It's pure fucking torture. There is no beginners luck for them. They didn't succeed at first; they didn't get the chance to try again. They had a first time for only one thing, dying._

_It's fucking morbid, I know, but that's life during war. Life was always like that to me. I guess that's why I still worked so well even after my squad mates, and I got a new squad, and they died. I didn't really seem to mind at the moment. After the shitty life I lived before the military, the fact that it was a person getting sliced to quivering bits simply didn't process through my head. Big Daddy helped as well. Being inside the Cyclops, you feel removed from the situation at times. Your vision is restricted by the cockpit, and you don't always see everyone dying around you. You're removed from the violence. You don't get any blood on you. Screams are muffled. It's kinda nice really. Peaceful. Like being in a coffin._

_That is why I took the promotion offered to me after Atlas. I wanted to have a chance to prevent any more deaths. I failed miserably. I couldn't save anyone on Miridem. I carried the only survivor of my squad on Earth into a Pelican and watched him die of blood loss. How could I have fucked up worse? I could be dead I suppose. So is it my fault they are dead? If I survived I must have been doing something right. Then I come to realize that I'm not weak, they are. Me and Big Daddy pulled through and continued to fight. So it's their fault. They were weak. Fuck them. Fuck everyone. Fuck this war. All I need is Big Daddy and a little bit of 'beginner's luck'._

I was definitely glad to be in Big Daddy today, even more than usual. Climate controlled interior, dry clothes, and the best part was no bugs. He even looked better than normal with the special forest camouflage my superiors provided me with. Atlas was such a shit hole of a planet. Lots of humidity and mosquito (space mosquitoes that is) infested rainforests. Sure, it had its beauty just like every other planet. A beautiful line of mountains painted the horizon, the snow clearly visible at the peaks of the mountains during the days. During the early mornings, before I got into Big Daddy, I would always gaze into the sunrise. The mixture of the red and orange glow from the sun and the still existing stars was just beautiful. It was heartbreaking to know that Covenant soldiers would gladly burn the entire forest and flatten the mountains in a heartbeat just to kill one human. I haven't seen as much war as some of the vets, but I swear I hate those fucking squids. Those fucking Brutes. I hate them more than I hate anyone. I hope they find us. I found this nice little bit for Big Daddy, a mining drill to replace the jack hammer. God, I want to tear a squid to bits with it.

"Curelski! Get your ass over here," the sergeant whispered through the radio.

I instantly started moving my mech through the brush. Roots and vines snagged the toes and knees of Big Daddy, making an awful racket as he ripped them up from the ground. 'So much for subtlety,' I thought to myself.

"Damn it son, can you be any louder?" he asked angrily. "We have reports of some big Covie in the area, bigger than the squids. We're going to need you at point if we run into them."

I flipped on the mech's speakers. "Yes sir, I'll get moving."

"Alright ladies, break time is over," the sergeant said, raising his gun and moving forwards. He had a bit of a little kid stumble. He had to watch his steps or he would trip up on the roots and stumps that littered the ground. Big Daddy didn't have that problem. The strong leg joints ripped through the plant material with ease, making loud cracking noises and tearing up dirt and mud. That would be sure to draw attention to the squad. Good. Let them come. I swear, I'll kill every one of them.

A private that was walking next to me spoke up through the com system. The sound of Big Daddy tearing through the jungle made talking without the radios impossible. "Sir, what exactly are we doing here? Isn't all the fighting going on in space anyways?"

"It isn't your job to worry about things like that Simmons. We just have to find some Covie, and kill them. Is there anything simpler?" the sergeant said.

'What a fucking ass,' I thought to myself.

"Sir, we have contacts just under a klick ahead. They're coming right at us," another marine said.

"Hold position, fan out, and wait for them," the sergeant replied as he took cover behind a fallen branch. Squatting and pressing against the wood, with the forest ghillie suit, he was practically invisible. I stopped moving, leaning against an exceptionally thick tree to hide a majority of the massive mech. The remainder of the squad began to move out from my location, most of them disappearing into the jungle.

There was complete radio silence, according to my clock, for five and a half minutes. All I listened to was the distant call of birds and other animals over the hum of Big Daddy's engines. A creature that resembled a snake slithered along, and passed right over the visor. I didn't want to risk taking it off, so I let it be, and soon enough it had slithered down to the ground. In truth, it was a rather calming mixture of sounds. I almost forgot about the battle for the time being. Almost.

"COVENANT!" yelled the private from earlier. We did shoot first, but quick enough there was gunfire from both sides. Plasma bolts pounded into the tree I was hiding behind, setting it ablaze after a moment. I stepped back and looked to where the enemy fire was coming from. Grunts were pushing through the jungle towards me, firing at me with their weapons. Green plasma washed over the cockpit visor. The little ones kept stumbling though, getting caught up in the brush, and even if not for that, their aim was pretty sad. I began charging through the forest towards them, the small shots of plasma doing little against Big Daddy's armor. I reached forwards, grabbing one grunt with Big Daddy's right arm. Sad little things when you get right down to it. Big Daddy closed his hand, and squish.

"Curelski, we have some big Covie inbound. Watch yourself out there," the sergeant barked over the radio. The drill worked better than I could have hoped. I was tearing through a grunt when those words came in, and I looked up, just to see a large green beam of plasma cut through the trees. I pulled on the controls to get Big Daddy moving, but the mech just wasn't fast enough with the extra armor plating. The energy beam blasted pieces of the extra armor off Big Daddy's right arm.

"What the hell is that thing sergeant?" I asked as I started moving again. I headed straight for the origin of the beam, coming face to face with a giant armored form.

"Hunters corporal, take them down fast. They'll tear right through us."

"Don't have to tell me that," I muttered as I punched forwards. The Hunter brought up its massive shield arm and deflected the punch, countering by smashing forwards with the gun. Big Daddy was sent sliding backwards, barely keeping his footing. I was rather surprised at the monsters strength; it was easily as strong as Big Daddy, if not stronger. I would have to do something about that later.

"Curelski, look out!" I heard through my radio just in time to step to the side and avoid a fuel-rod blast. I turned the mech and saw another Hunter closing in on my position.

"Fuck." I activated the drill on Big Daddy's left arm. One of these aliens was going to be hard enough to bring down, two would be impossible. Still, I had to try and drop one of them. I focused on the closest Hunter's first, who was running forwards with its shield dropped. I brought up the mech's arms and leaned forwards to keep Big Daddy on his feet. I was pushed back through the soft mud of the forest floor before finally catching my footing on a thick root system. With my right arm on the Hunter's shield I pushed down, digging the shield into the dirt. The monster made a loud groaning sound as I punched forwards with the drill.

The Hunter brought up his gun to stop the drill. Orange blood sprayed from the Hunter's arm as the drill ripped through the gun and armor. I continued to push forwards with the drill, tearing more and more from the Hunter. What was this thing? There was no flesh or bone, just these quivering insects. Blood and squirming worms splashed onto the visor of Big Daddy. I kept ripping and tearing, when Big Daddy was hit in the side by the second Hunter's shield. I fumbled with the controls to keep the mech on its feet, using his hands to stop him from falling to the ground.

"Bastard, you're fucking up my mech!" I pushed Big Daddy to his feet and turned, revving the drill. The first Hunter was looking down at the stump that was its arm. A moment later the other charged me with its spines pointed out. With a twist of the controls I sent Big Daddy's right arm soaring sideways, knocking the spines aside with only minor damage to the mech's hand. The Hunter rolled to the ground, landing on its side and roaring. I reached forwards and grabbed the Hunter's head, pulling it towards me. The neck stretched out from the armor, revealing the wormlike tendrils that made up its flesh. It struggled to get free, making odd groaning noises and kicking its feet. I raised the left arm to drill the Hunter's chest but that second one smashed Big Daddy with his shield. Big Daddy stumbled through the muck while I struggled to keep him standing again. If it weren't for my extra armor modifications, I would have probably died there.

"Corporal, finish those Hunters and get your ass back here." The sergeant's voice came in over the radio, slightly scratchy from the damage to the mech.

"Give me some fucking back up and I can!" I yelled, bringing the mech around to see both Hunters coming at me.

"We're a little busy right now. Take them out!" Busy retreating probably. Saving his own ass.

"Shit, you've got to be kidding me." I moved Big Daddy to the left as fast as possible, bringing the drill arm around to punch at the injured Hunter. I was faster this time. The drill drove itself into the stump of an arm, reaching deep into the Hunter's body. More thick orange blood sprayed onto the mech as I reached forwards with the right arm and twisted the Hunter's helmeted head, pulling the entire metal spinal column out. Orange blood poured from the neck as worms twisted in agony. The titan soon fell limp, crashing to the ground.

I pulled the drill out and pushed the body aside as the second Hunter roared in pain and anger. It charged towards me, swinging its shield towards the thick glass covering over the cockpit. I brought Big Daddy's heavily armored arms up to block the strike. The mech's metal frame groaned as the shield smashed into the arms, crushing their metal armor and bending their titanium alloy frame.

"Fucker, quit smashing my mech!" I yelled through the speaker and pushed the arms forwards, causing the Hunter to stumble backwards. Big Daddy sank into the mud as I pushed forwards on the controls, grabbing at the Hunter's neck with the right arm. Another push on the controls and the drill flew forwards, catching the Hunter in the head and splattering the area with blood as its head was ripped off.

"Sergeant, where are you. The Hunters are down," I muttered into the radio for a second. "Bastards almost ruined Big Daddy."

"Good, get back here, were getting overrun," the sergeant yelled over the com.

"Don't worry Sarge, I'm moving to your position now." Big Daddy was a little reluctant to move. Let's face it; he wasn't exactly in the best shape after that little battle. But he did move. I pushed forwards through the muck, looking for the sergeant. I walked past a rather surprising amount of dead Covenant. Grunts and Jackals alike, but none of the squids. I was beginning to wonder who was commanding the Covenant side of this operation. When I finally found the sergeant, I figured it out.

"Jordan, get this thing away from me!" He was yelling and running through the forest as fast as possible. I began to move when a large hammer with a scythe-like blade reached out from behind a tree and latched onto the marine. The hammer pulled backwards, the blade cut through his shoulder in a spray of blood, killing the man instantly.

"Sergeant! Oh shit no!" I said, now breaking into the Cyclops equivalent of a run. Big Daddy was just too heavy and too damaged to move very fast anymore. The hammer's wielder stepped out from behind the trees, standing straight and proud and gave a long roar at the fleeing marines. "Why couldn't it just be a squid?" I muttered.

No. It just had to be a Brute. I had seen them in pictures from the Harvest invasion, but pictures didn't prepare you anymore than pictures of the Elites did. I never really realized just how terrifying they were until I was looking one in the eyes.

"What is this?" the Brute asked, raising his hammer and walking towards me. "A human's pathetic attempt at making a Jiralhanae, this should be fun."

"You making fun of Big Daddy fucker?" I was screaming at a Brute. God damn me. I charged at him, pulling back on my drill hand. A few seconds later, Big Daddy's right arm was stripped clean of his armor. I yanked on the controls and took a few steps back, somewhere in the back of my mind I took note of how sluggish he was feeling, but I had much worse matters to deal with. "That's going to take forever to fix," I growled.

The Brute swung his hammer again, but I moved Big Daddy's hands into the way, catching the handle and bringing it to a stop just before it crashed into Big Daddy's shoulder and chest. I could see the Brute's eyes widen a little in surprise at the mech's strength, and I silently thanks Big Daddy. I like to think he thanked me too, for putting those extra piston in his arm to raise his strength. With a push on the controls I began to wrestle with the Brute for his hammer. It was a rather close battle in fact. I couldn't help but let my eyes widen as well, admiring the Brute's strength. The Hunters were strong, yeah. Stronger than Big Daddy. The Brute was maybe equal, but the Brute must have known how to use that strength better.

Alerts began going off in the cockpit as the engines started overheating from the continuous strain that has been put on them. Between fighting the two Hunters and now the Brute, I was surprised Big Daddy was still going. He was quite the persistent one. I smiled and continued to try and pull the hammer free from the Brute, but Big Daddy was just too beat up. I felt bad, putting him through so much punishment, and I muttered an apology under my breath.

The Brute roared loudly into the visor of the mech, causing saliva to spray onto the reflective glass. It was kinda cool to be this close actually. I could see deep into his eyes, and the wild bloodlust in them. I could see every scrape and scar over his face. Looking down a bit, I could see big holes in the armor, and large broken spots. The marines must have been putting up a fight. I made a mental tally of any opening in his defenses. That could spell victory. Who knew? Several lights within the cockpit began flashing red, more alerts started going off, and the legs just about shut down to make up for the strain on the arms. With a quick twist the Brute pulled back on the hammer, tearing it free from Big Daddy's grip. I pulled back on the controls again, trying to spin the drill, but it didn't respond.

"Ahh, fuck, this is not going to end well," I muttered as the Brute made a quick swing with his hammer, tearing more of the armor off the Cyclops. I cursed as I watched the metal fall away from the mech. I still had the left arm pulled back to strike. I smiled to myself and I pushed forwards on the controls. The Brute sidestepped, but his shoulder was caught by the drill. The green armor broke away with ease and blood painted the drill and arm. The Brute roared at me and swept Big Daddy's legs out. I grunted as the mech fell onto its back.

"You were fun human; I hope I get to kill more of your metal monsters in the future." The Brute laughed, staring at me. He lifted his hammer over his head, then crumbled as the wound in his shoulder widened and a spurt of blood gushed out in a wild spray. He roared, dropping his hammer in a fit of agony. Some tiny part of me actually though he might just turn and leave, decide I wasn't worth it. Instead, he took the sidearm off his belt with his left hand and aimed down.

I laughed actually. He couldn't hear me, so I turned on the speakers. "Next one will kill you," I said. "Then I'll get to see you in hell ." With a smirk I braced myself for the end when a spray of gunfire pounded into the Brute's chest. He roared in anger and staggered backwards away from me. One of the stray bullets must have caught his shoulder. He dropped the sidearm and instead applied pressure, looking forward, roaring loudly. Turning, it stumbled into the forest, dragging its hammer behind it.

"Corporal Curelski, are you still alive in there?" a deep male voice said through the radio.

"Yes, I'm still here. Thanks for the rescue." I quickly began working on venting the excess heat from within Big Daddy's engine and other critical systems. A few moments later I was able to get him to his feet. I wanted to see just who saved me.

A squad of marines were walking towards me while dozens of flamethrowers were busy headed through the forest. Burn 'em out, not surprising. When you think about it, the UNSC isn't any different the Covenant. If we had the technology, I wouldn't be surprised if we would glass any planet we came across with Covenant on it. Hell, we are already burning down entire forests just to find some Grunts and Jackals.

"Good to see your alive corporal, you're the only one we saved from this area." The lead marine approached me and Big Daddy, saluting as he walked.

Another reason I liked being in Big Daddy, I never had to salute. "Who are you?"

"Commander Hagart, I'm the one in charge of this mission." He dropped his hand, realizing I'm not able to salute while in the Cyclops. "Thanks to your efforts, we might just win the battle for Atlas."

I scowled in my armor. "That's all well and good sir, but we lost an entire squad here today, and that Brute escaped."

"Then I'm sure you'll want to find him. And once your mech is repaired, you can."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my heart dropping now that I realized just how much work I have to do on Big Daddy. I really did hate the Covenant.

"As of now you are promoted to Gunnery Sergeant. We are giving you your own select group of Cyclops to lead." I bet Hagart was smiling at me, through the reflective sheen of my visor.

"Why? My squad died and the Covie commander survived. The mission wasn't a success. Sir, I fucked up, alright."

The commander chuckled to himself. "Saw two Hunters dead a while back. That your handiwork? Besides, you seem to be a genius when it comes to these Cyclops. And if we are going to start deploying them we will need someone to lead them. Some may call it beginner's luck, but I think you will make a difference during the coming fights. Good luck Gunny, you'll need it."

_Fucking beginners luck. I hate that term, and I hated that commander. He threw lives away just so he could look good beating the Covenant on the ground while our fly boys actually won in space. Then he promoted me, for nothing. My entire squad was slaughtered, I barely survived, and that Brute escaped. I was rewarded for failure, because it would look good. No, promoted for 'beginner's luck' because I survived. Bullshit. This war is nothing but bullshit._


End file.
